


Four Paw Discount

by brookebond



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Humour, M/M, alternate first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 18:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Never play fetch with a puppy.





	Four Paw Discount

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you deinvati for the speedy beta of this!  
> Thanks also to jambees221b, somedrunkpirate, and pinkys_creature_feature for cheering me on.
> 
> I had so much fun writing this fic, it got a little out of hand.  
> I really hope you find it as adorable as I think it is!

Eames smiled at yet another woman passed the bench he was sitting on. It was getting ridiculous. He could see them all out of the corner of his eye. There was a group of them, chatting and shooting glances his way. There was nothing subtle about it, especially since the one that had just walked past him had done it five times already.

The only reason Eames was in the park was because Bones had been getting antsy in the house. The little blighter had taken to chewing on anything he could fit in his mouth and it was driving Eames insane. He’d forgotten what having a puppy in the house was like and was almost regretting not having gotten an older dog.

But as Bones bounded over to Eames, ball in his mouth, tail wagging a mile a minute, Eames couldn’t imagine having any other dog.

“Hey boy,” he said, scratching at the golden retriever’s ears before taking the ball from his mouth to throw it again.

Bones eagerly watched. He’d figured out that Eames wouldn’t throw the ball until Bones was sitting, so that was what he was doing, waiting patiently, eyes tracking the ball in Eames’ hand.

Eames grinned and reached back before throwing the ball as hard as he could. He watched it sail through the sky, losing it as it plummeted back to the ground.

Bones was off like a shot, not having any trouble at all tracking the ball.

Eames leant back, keeping his gaze off in the distance just in case Bones had any sort of trouble.

Another of the women walked past his bench as he waited for Bones. He contemplated saying something, asking about their husbands—he had seen a few gold bands—and if they’d mind their wives taking home a strange Brit. But instead of saying anything, Eames fiddled with his hat, tugging the brim so it covered his eyes a little more.

He was used to being stared at, of course he was, but it didn’t mean he liked it. That was part of the allure of being a forger, he could become anyone he wanted and if, in a dream, he made himself a little less attractive, no one was any the wiser. People were more willing to take him seriously when they weren’t distracted by his stupid lips.

In the distance, Eames could make out his puppy loping back to him. Eames squinted as Bones got closer. He didn’t have the ball in his mouth.

Eames stood from the bench, taking a few long strides to meet Bones on the grass and examine what he’d brought back.

“Where did you get a bloody book?” Eames asked as he reached for it, earning a playful growl from Bones.

It took a little convincing before Eames retrieved the book. The puppy was adamant they were playing a game but Eames needed to rescue the poor piece of literature before it was completely lost to drool. Plus, he really didn’t want to have to replace a book for whomever Bones had stolen it from.

“Crime and Punishment,” Eames read, examining the book for any damage. It was a little soggy from Bones’ over excitement, but overall it seemed to have fared pretty well. “Lucky,” he said, scratching the puppy’s ears.

Bones nudged Eames’ hand, wanting more affection which he gave readily. Eames was a sucker for pretty eyes and a playful nature.

“Is that your dog?”

Eames looked up, surprised that someone was talking to him. He’d gotten used to the women just strolling past watching him. But this wasn’t one of the women. This was, in fact, one of the most gorgeous men Eames had ever laid eyes on. His dark hair was slicked back, brows furrowed together in a strangely endearing way, sleeves of his sweater pushed up, tie askew, everything about this guy screamed anal retentive. Eames liked it.

“Sorry, darling, what did you say?” he asked, finally noticing the impatient tapping of the dark-haired bloke’s foot.

“Your dog is a thief, and I want my book back.”

“This is yours?” He held up the mostly undamaged book, looking from it to the gorgeous guy. It was almost too easy to get a read on him. Eames wondered if it was all for show, reading Dostoyevsky and looking the way he did. Maybe it was all an act to seem more put together than he really was.

“Yes,” he said, holding out a hand as his foot continued to tap.

“And Bones stole it?”

“Bones?” the man asked, confusion marring his beautiful face.

“This little guy,” Eames said, gesturing to the puppy in question.

“Then, yes,” he huffed. “Took it right out of my hands. Now, if you don’t mind.” He raised a brow, fingers wiggling ever so slightly.

Eames grinned and stood, nudging Bones with a foot to keep him from pouncing. “Why would he do that?”

“How would I know? He’s your dog.”

“Maybe he thought you needed a little fun,” Eames suggested, taking a step forwards. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to get under someone’s skin and this bloke was screaming that he needed to be loosened up, to have his pretty hair mussed. Eames was more than willing to help.

“I really don’t think your dog is qualified to make that judgement.”

“Darling, I think Bones might be spot on.” Eames grinned and placed the book into the guy’s waiting hand. When he went to pull it away, Eames kept his grip firm so the guy had to look at him. “What’s your name?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Just your name, pet, and I’ll let you get back to reading Dostoyevsky in peace.”

“Andrew,” he said with a laboured sigh as though it was the world’s biggest pain in the arse that Eames was demanding his name.

Eames narrowed his eyes ever so slightly but let the book go. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Andrew,” he said, purring the name just a little.

As the guy strode off to wherever it was he’d come from, Eames watched, licking his lips at the sight of that perfectly formed arse in those close cut trousers.

“Well didn’t you brighten my day,” Eames said, crouching down and rubbing at Bones’ ears.

The puppy had been so well behaved—or perhaps Eames just hadn’t noticed—during that whole interaction. Eames figured they could have a few more minutes in the park, and if he used the extra time trying to find the mysterious ‘Andrew’, Bones wasn’t going to judge him.

***

There was nothing Eames hated more than having to leave Bones at home while he went off to work. He’d contemplated trying to find someone to check in on him, but it wasn’t worth having to clean the flat. There were files all over every available surface Bones couldn’t reach.

Eames had been printing off all the information he’d been sent on the mark. The pointman, some guy named Arthur he was yet to meet—but they’d been having some wonderful conversations via email—had been sending him updates on everything Eames could ever have asked for. It was the first job he’d ever done with so much preparation, so much detail, and Eames couldn’t decide if he was terrified or aroused by the abundance of competence.

As far as Eames knew, the rest of the team had been working together for a few weeks and Eames had only been hired because they’d found they couldn’t get the job done without a forger. He was used to coming in late, but usually Eames knew the people he’d be working with so it didn’t make any difference. This team was different. Eames didn’t know the extractor, pointman, or the architect, and he hadn’t been able to find anything out about any of them either. Someone was good at covering their tracks and he had a feeling that was the mysterious Arthur.

The warehouse was easy to find—the directions he’d been given were meticulous—and was eerily quiet when he arrived.

“You must be Eames,” a voice said from his right.

Eames turned, finding a few tables shoved together and a dark-haired man in a button up looking at him. He blinked, placing the guy. ‘ _Andrew_.’ Now that was an interesting turn of events.

“Hello, darling,” he said, turning on the charm. It was satisfying, seeing the way Andrew did a double take, how he stared. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“How did you get in here?”

“You invited me.”

“I certainly did not,” Andrew said, moving from behind his desk to clear Eames off.

“You asked for a forger,” he said, watching Andrew’s eyes widen ever so slightly. “Here I am, darling.” Eames opened his arms, gesturing to himself.

“You’re Eames.”

“Yes. I thought we established that.”

“Your stupid dog stole my book.”

“He is not stupid,” Eames bristled. Maybe this Andrew guy wasn’t as great as he’d hoped.

“He still stole my book.”

“Yes, well, I never said he didn’t.”

“Arthur, has that forger turned up yet?” a blond man asked, striding through the warehouse with a folder in his hands. He stopped in front of Andrew, barely sparing a glance for Eames until he was gestured at.

“That’s him.”

“Pleasure,” the blond said, reaching out a hand.

Eames took it, shaking the proffered hand but kept his eyes on the other man. “You’re Arthur?” he asked, brows raised. He should have expected someone as gorgeous as that would be a liar. Eames certainly had a type, even when he wasn’t actively looking for anyone.

“If we’re done with the introductions, Dom, I believe we’ve got a job to do,” Arthur said, ignoring Eames’ question.

It was going to be an interesting month.

***

“Look, you need to be on your best behaviour,” Eames said as he clipped Bones’ lead onto the collar.

Bones yapped, licking Eames’ face excitedly. He knew what the lead meant. They were going for a walk.

After the first week of being left behind at the flat, Bones had gotten antsy and Eames didn’t have the heart to leave the puppy behind when he whimpered as Eames was leaving. So his compromise was to take him to the warehouse and pretend the puppy wasn’t there. It was a beautiful plan.

Dom and Arthur had barely talked to Eames since that first introduction. Every day when Eames showed up, there was new information on the desk he had claimed as his own. He wasn’t sure how Arthur kept finding more information, but he was impressed. Everything was useful, and if Eames had been left to study the mark without any help, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to come up with half as many details.

“Come on. Don’t want to keep Arthur waiting.”

It would have been better if he could have walked Bones to the warehouse but it was too far away for little Bones to make it. So Eames drove, Bones bounding around the back, tail thumping happily against the seats. Bringing the puppy was quite possibly going to be the biggest mistake Eames had ever made.

Bones led the way into the warehouse, which was thankfully empty when Eames turned up. Though he had to assume that it wasn’t empty, Arthur just wasn’t at his desk. Eames was pretty sure Arthur never slept. It seemed as though he was always at the warehouse, diligently working away at something. Eames could never figure out how he managed to continue to have so much work. Other pointmen Eames had worked with had never bothered to do anything until they went under. Arthur was a delightful change of pace.

Eames had just finished making a bed for Bones under his desk—out of blankets he’d taken from the hotel—when Arthur walked in and placed a coffee on said desk.

“I am going to pretend you aren’t hiding a dog under your desk, Eames.”

“Oh, is it one of those days, darling?” Eames asked, swivelling in his seat to watch Arthur walk to his own desk. “Am I allowed to pretend as well?”

“You already pretend to be good at your job.”

“Anytime you’d like a demonstration, I’d be more than happy to show you how good I am,” Eames said with a wink. The eyeroll he received in return was one of the best things that had happened to him in months.

“If that dog steals anything of mine, it’s out on the street,” Arthur threatened.

“Don’t speak so loud, he’ll hear you,” Eames hissed, leaning under the desk to cover Bones’ ears.

“Do some work, Mr Eames.”

Eames glanced over his shoulder, hands falling from Bones’ ears as he sat up. He was certain that had been a smile he glimpsed, but Arthur looked away, shuffling papers on his desk. Eames gave Bones a little nudge with his foot, smiling down at the golden puppy and went to work.

He’d been under a few times to work on his forge, but the architect still hadn’t shown their face so Eames was missing vital pieces of information, like what the dream would look like. He was getting ready to complain to Arthur about the lack of architect when Bones started to whine, nuzzling at Eames’ leg.

“What’s wrong boy?” he asked, pushing the chair back so he could climb down to Bones’ level.

The puppy took it as an invitation to start licking his face and jumping on him.

“You little blighter,” Eames laughed, pushing Bones away only to be attacked again. “It’s like that is it?”

Eames played with Bones for a few minutes, laughter and barking filling the warehouse. Occasionally he’d shoot glances over at Arthur but he never once looked over. Though, Eames could have sworn he could see the clenched jaw from where he was.

It was tempting to continue playing with Bones but Eames didn’t want to push his luck. He knew Arthur was allowing Bones to stay, not out of some loyalty to Eames, but just to be polite. Eames had to be a good boy as much as Bones had to be.

“I’m gonna get you some water, ‘kay?” Eames asked, standing and dusting himself off. “Stay,” he said, pointing a finger at the puppy, hoping he would listen. Bones was still getting used to certain commands and stay had been a hard one for him. They were still working on it.

There was a little kitchenette set up in the room next to the one they’d been working in. It was in a different room to encourage people to get up and move around, get a change of scenery—not that Arthur ever seemed to. Eames wondered if Arthur had brought all of the crockery in as well. It didn’t seem that farfetched really. Arthur had probably brought everything into the warehouse because Dom sure as hell wasn’t organised enough to think about people needing cups or plates to eat off.

Eames filled a bowl with water from the tap and carried it back out to the main area of the warehouse. His eyes went to Arthur’s empty desk, briefly wondering where he’d gone off to, when he heard Bones yapping away happily.

“What are you yapping at?” he asked, stopping short of his desk as he saw Arthur on his back, Bones pouncing on him.

Both Bones and Arthur looked up. Bones’ tongue was lolling out, panting happily. Arthur was bright-eyed, cheeks flushed, and hair slightly mussed.

“I thought you didn’t like my dog,” Eames said at a total loss for anything clever or witty to tease Arthur with. The sight of Arthur dishevelled was completely short-circuiting Eames’ brain and there was no way to bring it back online.

“I don’t believe I ever said that, Mr Eames.”

“He stole your book.” Eames mentally berated himself. How was it possible that the sight of a grown man playing with his puppy was rendering him this stupid?

“Yes, he did,” Arthur said solemnly and sat up, pushing Bones off him to do so. “Am I supposed to hold that against him when he’s whining because you’ve up and left him alone?”

“I didn’t leave him. I was getting him water.” Eames held the bowl up to show Arthur that he wasn’t actually a terrible puppy owner. “Traitor,” he shot at Bones as he sat on the floor next to them both and set the bowl down.

Bones eagerly started lapping at the water. His zealous drinking the only sound that filled the warehouse as both Eames and Arthur watched the puppy.

“Why is your dog named Bones? Are you a big Star Trek fan?” Arthur asked, breaking the trance Eames had fallen into.

He rolled his eyes, wishing someone would get the reference on the first go. It was a regular occurrence, people thinking he was a Trekkie. He supposed it was an obvious connection, more mainstream than the actual reason. “Treasure Island.”

“Billy Bones?”

Eames’ head snapped to Arthur. No one ever guessed right.

“I read a lot,” Arthur said with a shrug.

Without thinking twice about it, Eames leaned in, closing the small gap between himself and Arthur, and pressed their lips together.

Arthur made a small noise of protest that died as quickly as it had started. His hands found their way to Eames’ face and Eames wondered if it was to stop him getting away or pull him closer. Either way, Eames didn’t care.

Eames pressed the kiss deeper, his tongue seeking entrance to Arthur’s mouth when a rough tongue got in on the action.

Both Eames and Arthur pulled away from the kiss, laughter bubbling out of them at Bones’ intrusion.

“Cheeky little sod,” Eames said, grabbing Bones and pulling him into a hug as he scratched under the puppy’s chin.

“He thought he was missing out.”

“He bloody well was,” Eames said vehemently, glancing over at Arthur at the chuckle his words drew.

The sight that greeted him was beautiful; Arthur was lit up, eyes shining with mirth, lips spread in a wide grin with dimples. Eames had never seen the dimples before and reached out a hand to press his thumb to one.

Arthur stopped laughing and pressed into Eames’ hand ever so slightly.

‘ _Oh_ ,’ Eames thought. He could get used to seeing Arthur like that.


End file.
